Twenty-one
Squeezing my eyes shut, I silently wished to be anywhere but here. And then, as if the universe had answered, I was pulled back in time. Like the flipping pages of a book, the scene before me shifted.
The air filled with the faint, smoky scent of burning incense, wrapping around me like a ghost from the past. The familiar crackle of bacon sizzling on the stovetop filled my ears.
It was picture day. My checkered white and yellow dress was perfectly pressed, not a single wrinkle in sight, as I crossed one leg over the other, scooting my chair closer to the dining room table.
“Do I have to wear this thing?” I whined, tugging at the pleated ends of the fabric. “It feels like I’m naked.”
My mom placed her hand on my shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Clarke, it’s just for one day. Besides, Jessie is wearing a dress, too. You guys will look so cute.”
“My beautiful girls,” my dad said, pressing a kiss on the top of my head.
“Daaad,” I groaned as I shrugged the two of them off. “Where’s Jessie anyway? She hibernating or something?”
“Why don’t you go up and get her?”
I sprang up from my chair without a second thought and dashed toward the stairs. My shoes clunked against the floor, the straps of my Mary Janes digging into my skin with each step.
The sun had just begun rising, casting a golden glow through the windows. I squinted as I passed each pane of glass, my vision flickering between light and shadow. Calling out over my shoulder, I nearly tripped over my own legs.
“Don’t eat all the bacon!”
“Not making any promises I can’t keep!” my dad yelled back.
I rolled my eyes at his words and hurried up the stairs, making my way to Jessie’s room.
On her door was a collage of magazine clippings and torn passages from obscure books, each piece arranged carefully not to obstruct the other.
My knuckles scraped against the wood as I dropped my gaze to my feet, waiting for her to answer.
As the silence stretched on, my eyes wandered back to the scattered bits of paper decorating the door. One quote in particular caught my attention, and without thinking, I reached out, splaying my fingers against it.
‘If you feel pain, you are alive. If you feel other people’s pain, you are a human being.’
– Leo Tolstoy.
“Jessie, come on!” I shouted, banging harder against the wood. “If you don’t answer, I’m coming in there!”
My legs grew heavy as I stood outside Jessie’s door, waiting for her to respond. I knocked again, this time more insistently. Another moment of silence lingered before impatience took over. I grabbed the doorknob, twisted it, and burst into her room.
“Jessie, what are you — ” My words dried up as I walked inside.
The room was a mess. The curtains were drawn tight, swallowing the room in darkness. The nightstand was a wreck with crushed water bottles and empty medication bottles toppled on their sides. Even the bed was in disarray—its sheets twisted into a mess on the floor.
“Jess? Where are you?”
I stepped around the edge of the bed, and that’s when I saw it.
Her hand, palm upturned, limp against the floor.
The edges of my vision blurred, the world darkening around me as dread settled in my chest. I stopped in my tracks, my breath hitching.
Clutched in her fingers were a dozen white pills.
My knees buckled, and I dropped to the floor, crawling toward her in a panic.
“No, no, no…” I cried; my sobs frantic. “Jessie!”
The laughter of the present flooded my ears, ripping me from my mind’s prison.
My eyes fluttered open, tears welling and stinging as they met the open air.
I stared down at the cluster of shoes surrounding me—black Vans , pink Adidas , white Nikes , gray Pumas —all shifting closer, pressing in. Too close .
I couldn’t breathe. The walls of bodies around me felt suffocating.
Panic surged through me. My hands smacked against the floor as I pushed myself up, shoving my way out of the crowd.
The faces around me faded—I could only focus on my own feet, my white Converse pounding against the hard, tiled floor.
Just before I disappeared into a nearby janitor’s closet, I caught one last glimpse—Andrew and Dani, ripping papers from the walls, crushing them in their fists.
I collapsed against the wall, sliding down until I hit the floor, wishing I could disappear into it.
My chest heaved, and the sobs I had tried to suppress now spilled out.
My stomach churned, tightening with every shaky inhale.
The room spun around me, each gasp making me dizzier as I slipped further into the void.
“Clarke! Are you okay?”
I tilted my head up to see Elliot standing over me, his silhouette cutting off the harsh glow of the overhead light. His mouth moved, but his voice was distant, muffled, as if I were hearing him through layers of cotton. My lips quivered.
The mask I had worn for so long had finally shattered. There was no use pretending anymore. Elliot crouched beside me, his words an unintelligible murmur, his eyes wide with fear. Then, without warning, the silence broke and the world came rushing back, his frantic voice crashing over me.
“Hey, hey,” Elliot whispered, cupping my face. “Just breathe with me.”
“I ca-I can’t.” I panted heavily, my sobs raw and unrelenting. “They know. They know.”
“It’s okay. It’s—”
“No! Prom Queen…I can’t.” I gulped, my voice shaking. “I can’t win.”
“Prom Queen?” he asked, brows knitting together. His hands dropped, leaving my skin. “Why does it matter if—”
“Because it does!”
“Look, I know that you were bullied, but—”
“No!” I yelled, my throat hoarse. “You don’t know . It’s not just me…it’s….my—”
“Hey, you’re gonna be okay.”
“ I’m gonna be okay,” I wept angrily, my words coming out strained. “But she’s not! She’s not okay, and they killed her a-and I can’t…I can’t bring her back!”
He shook his head, lips parting. “I don’t…killed who?”
“My sister. She…she was bullied. Both of us were.”
“Wait.” His eyes flickered with realization. “Did she…?”
“Pills.” I nodded. “It was pills.”
“Prom Queen. It was never for you. It was for your sister.”
“I just wanted to win for her . For us . To prove to everyone that we’re good enough. That we’re important. That we fucking matter!” I blubbered, burying my face in my hands.
Elliot gently raised my chin with his thumb, and our eyes locked once more.
“You matter. You have always mattered.”
“I don’t!” I cried. “And I’m not good enough, and I’m not important, and…and you don’t have to lie for me anymore, Elliot. Everything…everything is just…it’s all fake.”
He licked his lips and squeezed his eyes shut. Letting go of his crouched stance, he sank down fully, rolling backward and landing on his butt.
“But it’s not. Not for me, at least. It never has been.”
“What?”
“Clarke, I fell for you the second I saw you, but I knew that you would never feel the same way.”
I brushed my hand across my face, wiping away the moisture that had accumulated. “That’s not—why would you think that?”
“Because you’re the cute cheerleader, and I’m just a guy who failed his senior year.”
“You’re not.”
“Yes, I am!” He sighed. “But when I got to know you—the real you—things changed. You became a person and not just some flawless girl on a pedestal. Seeing you outside of school…it was refreshing. So, I thought, maybe I had a chance. I thought that maybe we were more alike than I realized.” His lips twitched into a smile, only to waver a moment later.
“But then, I saw your journal. What you had written. That’s why I reacted the way I did.
But my feelings never changed…they only grew deeper with every second that I’ve known you.
And even though it’s barely been a year…
I know you, Clarke. And I know that you’re good enough.
And I know that you’re important. And I know that you matter. ”
“Elliot, I—”
“I get that you don’t feel the same way, I just…I should’ve told—”
“Elliot, stop!” I shouted, cutting off his words. I leaned forward, my eyes glistening as I grabbed his hands with my own. “I do.”
His expression morphed, flickering between shock and denial. “You do?”
“I do,” I repeated, my voice louder this time. “I was planning on telling you at the party…but…but now I’m probably not even gonna go. I’m the school’s punchline when all I ever wanted was to win Prom Queen for my sister. And now they all think everything about me is fake.”
“Well, fuck what they think! We know what’s real and this… us …it’s real.”
“But—”
“No, buts! This is high school. People are going to talk, no matter what—so let’s give them something to fucking talk about. The real way to win that crown and honor your sister at the same time is by being yourself. Prove that outcasts are cool, too.”
It was simple. Or at least, it should’ve been.
One plus one equals two—but somehow, I couldn’t do the math until Elliot spelled it out in a way that finally clicked.
Honoring my sister and redeeming myself was never supposed to be about chasing popularity to prove we were worthy—it was about showing that no matter how different we may seem, we are all enough.
I had spent years shaping myself into the perfect teenage girl with the perfect life and the perfect personality.
But the truth was, no one was perfect—and that was okay.
I was so much more than a plastic Barbie doll.
“How the hell did you get so smart?”
The corner of his eyes crinkled as a smile grew on his face. God, I’d missed that smile.
“I have a pretty amazing tutor.” He laughed. “I can’t take all the credit, though. You’re the one who showed me I was capable of more than I thought. And now, I hope I can do the same for my sister.”
Smiles replaced my tears, calmness eased my panic, and happiness took over my sadness—all because of one boy that I never imagined I could love…yet, here I was.
He truly embraced the role of Prince Charming that I had impulsively bestowed upon him.
I guess you really couldn’t judge a book by its cover—for both me and him.
Who would’ve thought the most reliable person I knew would be an emo outcast, who failed 12 th grade and loved a good video game every once in a while?
So, yeah , I loved Elliot Keller. Now, all that was left was finding the courage to tell him. Eventually. But for now…
“Elliot?”
“Yeah?”
“I think I’m breaking rule number seven of the totally-not-real relationship rules.”
“And I’m breaking rule number eight.”
I lunged forward, pressing myself against Elliot as I pulled his face to mine, our lips meeting in a fiery burst of passion.
As my eyes drifted shut, fireworks illuminated even in the darkness.
His palm cradled the side of my face, sending a shiver through me the moment his fingers brushed my skin.
My hands danced in his hair as the rest of my body melted, all my strength slipping away.
I collapsed against him entirely, my weight falling into his arms. He smiled against my lips, our kiss breaking apart with laughter.